Danke Schoen
by midnightcas
Summary: Derek took note of his Batman shirt as he was handed his coffee and bagel. He rolled his eyes as he sat down in his normal spot. The kid probably didn't even know who Dick Grayson was. AU where the whole group of them reside in NYC and everyone thinks Stiles is a hipster, but he's not. He swears he's not. Then there's the guy who comes to the vegan cafe everyday wearing leather...


**Stiles Stilinski: 6:20 am**

The bright lights from the sirens had woken him up at a time too early for any sane person to function at. The man across the street had been called in for public intoxication and disturbing the peace, but what he didn't think that the general public understood was that New York City was anything _but_ peaceful.

Stiles sighed as he readjusted the huge frames that sat on his face. He was craned over a book, making it look ten times more interesting than it actually was. He grumbled at the fact that his parents had failed to find anything smaller for him to wear and that he was stuck with gigantic wanna-be-hipster glasses that were too overrated for him to be seen in public with. It didn't help that he was nearly blind or had no money to buy himself a new pair of socially acceptable frames. It had taken Scott three whole days to get him to leave the house with them on and another two to get him to look people in the face. He had hoped that in the past three years he would've grown into them, but no, they were still as big and awkward as they had been on day one. He rolled his eyes at the thought of being broke and living in a ratty apartment building in the middle of Brooklyn, yet he looked around him and...alas.

An impatient knock came from the door, and Stiles again, sighed. He got up and flung the door open, trying to make it known that him getting up and leaving his warm, comfortable spot on the couch, which he may never get back, was a _huge_ inconvenience.

"H-hi. Stiles?"

Stiles' mood went from mildly irritated to aggressively annoyed. It was Matt. Matt who was addicted to everything there was to be addicted to. And unfortunately, he was one of Scott's main buyers.

Scott was his best friend...and his roommate. And the kid was a saint. Literally an angel. Did not set a foot out of bounds, like, ever. But no one, especially Stiles, had claimed him to be perfect. He had a few flaws...and selling weed was one of them. His choice in customers being another.

"Scott's not here."

Stiles had _told_ Scott, a million and seven times, _not_ to give these guys their real address. But Scott, being as naive and trusting as he was, had told Stiles not to worry about it and that they were all really nice guys.

Yes. Nice guys. Who sold drugs. Carried guns and sold drugs. But nice.

He'd invite them to coffee sometime maybe. With a weed brownie or something. Scott didn't actually smoke. He just sold it. Which was beyond him. Stiles, he could drink 'til his heart's content, but drugs, and weed especially, just made him feel uncomfortable. Not to mention the smell of it.

"When will he be back? Do you know?"

"No," he cut shortly.

"Well...that's-that's okay. I just need to pick up."

"Sorry, I can't help you, amigo."

"Come on Stiles. Just help me out, please."

When Stiles gave him an unwavering expression in response, he went on explaining himself to a totally indifferent teenager.

"I was supposed to pick it up yesterday, but I got caught up. And _my_ buyer needs thiers _today_. Today or nothing. And it's on me. So if you could just do me this one favor. I'd owe you one."

"I'm sorry, I can't help you. This is Scott's business. I have no part of it."

"You live in a house with drugs," he growled, getting heated, "you're apart of it, like it or not,"

He gave him an annoyed look, "I'll have Scott call you when he gets in. Have a great day."

"Stiles!" He yelled, causing the boy to hesitate in closing the door, "I'll-I'll call the cops," he decided. Nodding, he continued, "Yeah, that's what I'll do. I'll tell them that you're a drug dealer."

"And what would you say? That you were actually going to buy drugs, and that's how you knew?"

Matt got red in the face.

"Just give them to me, come on Stiles."

"I can't. Sorry," he said in the most insincere voice he could muster.

He let out a shout as he pulled a gun from his pocket. Stiles' face stayed unwavering. Sometimes he was too smart for his own good. He spotted the firing pin was missing and decided to test his luck.

"Still can't help you. I think you know your way out?"

"I'll shoot you, I swear to God!"

"Please. I have a huge final tomorrow, and getting blown away would probably be a pretty good excuse for missing it, am I right?"

Matt muttered something, "I swear to you Stiles. One day I'll get my hands on you. And the sad part is, you won't even know it was me."

Needless to say, this wasn't the first time Stiles had stood in the way of Matt and a fix.

"Have a nice day," Stiles responded, closing the door in the frustrated man's face.

He let out a breath of anxious relief as he slumped against the door, holding his heart. He stayed there for several minutes, until a voice made him jump.

"Who was that?" Scott asked, coming out of the was a towel wrapped around his waist, a sign that he had just come from the shower.

"No one," Stiles shrugged as he looked down at his phone, reading a message from Jackson about shift changes.

 **Scott McCall: 6:20 am**

When Scott had gotten back from his 5:00 run, he had come in to find Stiles wide awake and buried in a book. Without asking whether he had just woken up, or if he had _been_ up, he shouted 'good morning' and headed into the bathroom...he had his suspicions.

He now stood under the hot water of the shower. These were his peaceful moments where he got to think. Think about his life, think about Stiles, his mother, money. Sometimes all at once. Today his thoughts drifted towards Stiles. He wished he could have given him more. Even though he was his best friend, and only a year younger, he still felt ultimately responsible for him. And he suspected Stiles felt the same way about him. He was still in high school, without a proper family and yet, he was doing so much better than the life he was living. When Scott moved out, Stiles had practically begged Scott to take him. Even Stiles' father, who paid part of the rent now, had thought it was a good idea for him to get away from his past. Scott, of course, was enthusiastic about it, getting to live with your best friend in a small apartment in the city had to be on nearly everyone's bucket list somewhere. But they were near poor out here. Back home, they were both middle class citizens who could afford the little extra things on the side. But now, they had to work hard to make ends meet. Even if it meant doing some pretty shady things on the side. Like selling weed. Scott was about as fond of it as Stiles was. And Stiles had made it clear that he didn't like it and continued to do so at any mention of it. He had to get out soon. For himself _and_ for Stiles. There had been some close calls on both of their accounts and if anything happened to Stiles or any of his friends because of it, he would never forgive himself. He had promised that he would stop as soon as his band got a gig opening for a concert. And it looked like they were going to make it. They were so close. Summer was approaching and their management had told them that they had a pretty good chance at opening for one of the thousand concerts in the city. They were actually going to do it. There was so much riding on it. His career, his financial issues, getting out, a new life style. His blissful thoughts of the future were interrupted by Stiles' voice. Thinking there might be someone there for him, he hurried out of the shower. He rapidly dried off and skidded out of the bathroom to see Stiles leaning against the door, looking sick and kind of queasy.

"Who was that?" he asked, startling the boy.

He coughed, "No one," he responded coolly, automatically looking down at his phone, checking for messages.

Scott stared at him for a few extra moments before tearing his eyes from him. These are the things that made Scott worry about him. He sighed before turning away and then turning back to engulf the shorter boy in a sloppy hug. He let out a startled yelp, his arms trapped between both of them and his face was smooshed against Scott's bare chest.

"Scott!" he cried, "You-are-naked."

"I have a towel," he laughed, tightening his already deathly grip.

"No! No! Clothes!"

He laughed as he pulled away, causing a grin to tug at the corner of Stiles' mouth. With the satisfaction of a smile, Scott whistled into his room.

"I have to go to work," he called out as his slipped a shirt on, "Are you coming with me?"

"Will you be distributing drugs or lattes?"  
"Lattes today," Scott answered with a sigh, going along with the joke.

"Sure. What time will you be there until?"

"Only until noon," It was six thirty, "Then I have rehearsal. Erica'll pick us up."

"As long as it's not on her stupid bike."

 **Erica Reyes: 6:30 am**

Erica hated helmets. They ruined her hair. So she simply didn't wear one. She looked in the mirror and perfected her winged eyeliner, reapplied her mascara and nearly flew out the door to unlock her bike. She wasn't late, but the earlier she finished her route, the more she'd be paid.

Boyd had gotten her into the bike messenger business last summer. He had needed a check hand delivered to his landlord within the hour, so he called Parrish, the head of it all. This was all during one of Erica's rants about minimum wage and being poor. She, desperate to do anything but prostitution for money, begged Boyd to get her a job there. She 'loved bikes and wanted to work on her glutes' had been her spur of the moment, over the phone interview answer. Nonetheless, he had hired her. She put her hair in a messy bun and swung her leg over the side of the bike, perching on it outside her apartment building. Her three quarter exercise pants were tight, and so was her pink tank top that read, 'I don't sweat. I sparkle.' She knew she was hot. She had that confidence that made _others_ know that she knew that she was hot, and _they_ knew it too. She hooked up her headset and signed in with Parrish.  
"Parrish?"  
"Is that you babydoll?"

"Yessir."

"Are you ready to say good morning to lower east side Manhattan?"

"Absolutely," she chirped, heading off in that direction, "Can I get an address?"

"Somewhere on 7th Street."

" _Somewhere_ on 7th Street? I thought we stopped taking sketchy assignments, Parrish?"  
"It's a guy I know. He's a lawyer. He just has some information for a client that needs to be delivered by this morning. Don't ask him questions, he's a good customer. Pays well."

"Do I have a delivery address?"

"Yeah, bring it back here. Isaac will deliver it."

"Why can't I?"

"I told him there'd be a switch off."  
"I get the money though, right?"  
"It's all yours."  
"Good. Alright, now butt off. You're hogging my mic."

 **Isaac Reyes: 6:45 am**

Isaac rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, he decided that he didn't look _too_ terrible and could skip out on a shower. He tousled his hair and splashed cold water on his face to help wake him. He changed from his baggy sweatpants into athletic shorts and a sweatshirt. He had a morning run to do, nothing too big or tedious, or so that what Parrish's message read. He'd be done by seven thirty and be on his way to work for eight. Isaac was ambitious to say the least, as well as lazy. His mother would always poke fun at the wonder of how God had gone and placed the two most opposing traits within her son. He did bike deliveries on his off time, and worked as a part time intern/secretary for a small law firm in Manhattan. Lucky for him, Erica, his twin sister, covered everything he couldn't do for the courier company, and the lawyer he had been assigned to, David Whittemore, was very understanding of his situation. He stretched and slid on his shoes, calling Erica while doing so.

"Reyes."  
"Yo."  
"What Isaac?" He could hear the irritation in her voice, though it was the first words they had exchanged with one another all morning.

"I just wanted to say good morning."  
"Mhm. I'll be at the station in twenty minutes. I don't know what you have before, but this is a priority."

"Do you know what it is?"  
"Drugs."  
"Really?"  
"No. Just get down there and do what you can. I have rehearsal at noon."

"Yeah, yeah."  
"I'm serious Isaac, skip out on coffee today. I don't want to be picking up your slack later on."  
"Sure thing, Sis," he said with false cheeriness, hanging up.

Boyd had already left. He worked at a coffee shop somewhere in Manhattan, and on the weekends he opened. However, on Saturdays, he had gotten his manager to agree with him to _only_ open, so he'd be home by 11ish. He liked Boyd. He was a good guy. He was big and threatening and quiet. He didn't say much, but he knew that he probably could pick Isaac up and fling him out the window at any given second. And if Isaac was being annoying, he'd let him know. But it was pretty much an easy time for the both of them. I mean, sure it got a little awkward once in awhile, seeing that he was dating Erica, but most of the time, he felt like just another part of their family. He sighed, when he walked out into the hallway to see the 'under maintenance' sign taped on to the doors of the elevator. This happened at least once every month. Worst of all, it was in Comic Sans.

He galloped down the four flights of stairs and took a sharp turn into the small lobby. It was a small quiet room where people usually met up in the building. Next door there was a tiny bar where you could find nearly two thirds of this building's inhabitants on the weekends. On one wall there was a mailing system. Each room had its own box. Although there was more than enough room, Isaac nearly turned into another man. He clumsily stepped away to avoid hitting shoulders, while the other continued on, barely even slowing. He turned to watch him walk out the door in utter offence. By his dark hair, his expensive suit and his walk, Isaac identified him as one of his "neighbors". He didn't know his name, but he knew he was only a few years older than him and acted about 50. He often saw him working in step with the Whittemore's, meaning he had a lot of money. Which didn't explain why he was here. This caused him to see this man many times. In the office, at home, in the bar (illegally), at restaurants. He even hung out at the coffee shop Boyd and everyone else worked at. Yet no matter how many times they were introduced or crossed paths or saw each other, he never acknowledged Isaac. I mean, Isaac wasn't that difficult of a name to remember. But then again, he couldn't recall this man's name either, so he guessed it was just fair game.

He rolled his eyes and _made_ _sure_ that he stopped for coffee before work.

 **Derek Hale: 6:00 am**

"Derek!"

He rolled over, hearing the desperate knocking, "Derek!"

He slid from his bed and slowly opened the door to see a petite woman with dark hair staring angrily at him. There stood his sister in business attire, wearing an expression of utter annoyance and bother. She was eight inches shorter than him, yet still held more fierceness in her than Derek ever could have. Laura shouldered her way past him, he, softly letting her.

"Good morning to you, too."

"Do you want some money?"

He just stared at her.

"Do you want some money or not?" She repeated, glancing at a dirty tshirt that hung over the back of his couch.

Derek's apartment was clean, thank you very much. Especially for a bachelor. For the most part it was spotless, but it had its days.

"Laura," he whined, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I'm _asking_."  
"No."

He walked around the couch to sit as she stood looming over him.

She crossed her arms impatiently. Ever since she had Sammy, her now 5 year old son, she had taken on the whole 'Mom' superpower thing. One glare, she thought, could fix everything and put you under mind control. Or the counting thing...forget it. He smirked, expecting her to start tapping the toes of her fancy designer-that-Derek-couldn't-pronounced-the-name-of heel.  
"I need a delivery boy."  
"You know, they have those."  
"I need you to pick something up for me and drop it off."

"I'm not a dog, Laura."  
"Heh," she chuckled humorously, "that was funny. This is important Derek."  
"Can I atleast know what it is?"  
"No."

"Then I'm not doing it."

A stunned look crossed her face, slack jaw and everything. He couldn't help but let a feeling of satisfaction come over him. Laura wasn't told no. Derek of course, was going to do this. He'd do nearly anything for his older sister, forced to or not. However, he wouldn't be a Hale if he let an opportunity go to waste, now would he?

After she navigated her way back to reality, she narrowed her icy blue eyes at him, "No?"

"No. Not unless you tell me what it is."

He felt like a bum. He here was, shirtless with sweatpants on, in the middle of a small studio apartment, negotiating with a beautiful and well dressed business woman, for information that he didn't really need. Or care about. She cleared her throat and shook her hair into place, regaining herself from her previous state of shock. Derek could nearly see her puffing out her chest.

"If you must know, it's a contract."

"So it's for work?"

"Yes?"

"Okay, and-?"

"And it's between us and the Argents."

"Laura-"

"Derek. They want to buy us out."  
"For what?"

"A lot."

"And you're going to let them?"  
"Jesus, no, Derek! Who do you think I am?"

"Well how am I supposed to know? You march in here telling me there's some contract...hell, this is the first I'm hearing about all this-"

"Because it was irrelevant."

"Irrelevant? How is it irrelevant that our parent's company is about to be bought from underneath us?"

"Because it isn't-"

"Speaking of, do _they_ even know?"

The Hales owned over half of Brooklyn. They were investing in Harlem, had a few blocks on the island, and enough to make them billions in Manhattan. Talia and Garrison, themselves, chose to live in Queens. Their company was the third in the city for holding the most property. Right behind the Whittemore's and the Yukimura's. However, this Hale/Argent conflict had begun when Chris Argent and Talia Hale had wanted the same building somewhere in the Upper East Side in their earliest years of buying and investing. Nowadays, neither of them could tell you which building that it was or where it was located. All they could remember was that neither of them got it. Instead of putting the small war to rest, this fueled the fire for their rivalry for years to come.

Laura had chosen to partake in the family business, along with the two oldest Hales, Camden and Ryan. She had become a lawyer in under seven years, eager to be working side by side with her parents. She eventually came to own a few buildings, too. Cora was currently in school for business. This past year she had studied abroad in Africa. She hoped that one day, she could help Laura and the others co-own the family business. Derek, on the other hand, didn't want anything to do with it. He had gone to school, graduated with a double major in business psychology and accounting and took enough credits to minor in pre-law as well. And he hated it. Every second of it. He loved the psychology and the law and he loved accounting (numbers were his thing) but adding the business part to it, well, it nearly made him sick. They were snakes. All of them. He had even seen his own parents and siblings do some questionable things. He had wanted to finish though, knowing that a drop out would just look bad across the board. He had sought out Laura's guidance in this matter, which was the worst mistake Derek could have possibly made. Laura had a list of priorities: The Company, Education, Family. It had gotten heated, as sibling conversations usually do, and she had told him that his stupidity would stain the "Hale Reputation" and that it would "affect all of them". Talia, overhearing this, had stepped in, glowering, leaving them to never speak about the situation, or college, again. Derek knew she'd been wrong. His parents never had once put the business before their family. He remembered Camden going through a hard time in his life where he needed professional help. His parents had been there each step of the way. He later learned, by eavesdropping, that they had lost out on over a dozen major deals and trillions of dollars. Garrison had just shrugged and calmly said, "None of that would have compensated for losing a son." It goes unsaid that the receptionist no longer worked for the Hales, came the end of that week. He remembered her frowning, telling him that if he was really that unhappy, that he could leave after the semester. It was then that he found the courage to tell her that he wanted nothing to do with the business or the job. From her response, Derek could tell that she had known all along. He finished his last year at college on the promise that he wouldn't have to take any more business classes and although he wasn't going to be apart of the family business, he'd stay a strong part of the family. At first Derek steered aggressively away from anything mentioning his last name. Now, however, he would occasionally help with small tasks, mostly PR, employment, representation, etc. He never missed a gala or an opening. He conducted interviews and was interviewed, he played the part of the small celebrity he was, just because he shared the last name with one of the richest businessman in the country. Although his "fame" alone could have paid for a penthouse overlooking the Hudson, he chose to live humbly. Small apartment in the corner of Brooklyn, humbly. Only-Mustard-And-Pickles-In-The-Fridge kind of humble. It drove Laura nuts. He was a millionaire at twenty-three and he still bought French's. His family owned this building, and though it wasn't big or extravagant, Derek had liked it.

"Of course they know! They're the ones who gave it to me!"

She was insulted now.

"So why am _I_ delivering it?"  
"Because I have a meeting in SoHo in an hour and I don't know how long it'll last. I told Chris it would be on his desk at eight."

"Okay...what's the contract for?"

"We're selling him a building for way more than it's worth with a nice long disclosure basically stating that if they try to pull something like this again then we're filing for harassment."

Derek allowed a huff of laughter to pass through his lips.

"So I need _you_ to put a shirt on, take a shower, doll yourself up and play a nice Prince Charming for us, alright?"

"Whatever you say, Sis," he coaxed, standing up and planting a kiss on her forehead, "Now am I to take the subway with my fancy Tom Ford suit?" I mean, if she was paying...

"'Driver will be here in an hour."

"Mmm."

"See you for lunch then?"  
"Sure," he said, walking her to the door.

"I'll call you when it's done."

As soon as she left, Derek got in the shower as she has insisted. He was annoyed that he wouldn't be able to fit in his morning run, but he didn't mind it too much, especially if Laura was taking him to lunch.

After drying himself off, slinking on a wifebeater and pulling his briefs on that, alone, were probably worth more than his life, he heard yelling. He instinctively rushed to see what it was, because yelling, here, often wasn't good yelling. And he knew that a few kids lived around here. His mother was insistent that he keep an eye out for them. He felt like an RA in a college dorm. Because it was their building, their tenants were their "responsibility". Laura only had warned him to make sure no one died or got seriously injured because she "has had it up to here and cannot take another lawsuit". He ripped opened the door and came face to face with a sketchy looking man that reminded him of Pig-Pen. He was about to snap at him for the early hour and all the noise, when he spotted the gun. He internally tensed, yet externally he was unmoved. His poker face personality was something to pride, especially now. He took in the situation, seeing that the trigger pin had been removed. One good thing had come from that self-defense class in high school. And dealing with all the hunters he'd encountered. He had meant to threaten someone. And it was someone in his building. He didn't care who it was, or what it was for, this was _his_ building, whether he liked it or not. This asshole had no right to come in here waving a useless gun around, trying to scare the shit out of someone.

"Get the hell out of here," Derek said in the coldest voice he could manage.

The man narrowed his eyes, but silently obeyed. It was only 6:30. Wonderful.

He picked out a suit, A black one. Because that's how he was feeling. By the time the necessities were done: cologne, teeth, hair, etc., it was seven o'clock and the driver pulled up accordingly.

He got to the Argent's building around 8. He knew Laura had told him "on his desk at eight", meaning nine, because Chris Argent never got to work before 8:30. Walking in, he was greeted by a handful of people that he knew his parents did business with, along with a few strangers. Regardless, he put on his best seducing, toothy smile and returned their warm wishes. He eventually fell into step with Chris Argent's sister. Also, his ex.

"Oohh, Mr. Hale!" She said in an overly friendly voice.

"Kate," he greeted curtly.

"How have you been?"

"Just fine, yourself?"

"Peachy. What's that you got there?"

"Paperwork for your brother."

"How sweet of you to make the trip."

Kate Argent had been his dream girl. Smart, strong, cunning, beautiful. He thought that she was everything he'd imagined. He had been young, fresh out of high school. And here was this "older woman" paying attention to him. He thought he was the shit. His friends thought he was the shit. Even Ryan, once he had gotten wind of their "activities" had seemed impressed and agreed that he was indeed the shit. Derek had given her everything. Jewelry, clothes, vacations. He was in love with her. And eight months after they had met, they were engaged. How couldn't he have asked her to promise herself to him? She was his everything. She loved him. And despite the disapproval from his family, he continued on with her. This lead to many fights, between the siblings and he and his parents. But every time, he chose Kate. The woman who loved him, who understood him. It wasn't until one day that Chris Argent approached Talia with some new found information that could potentially ruin her business, when everything fell into place for the Hales. Kate _Argent_ was Chris' sister, that had been living in another country for all these years. She had swooped in, right at Derek's low point and picked him up for her own benefit. Even after the obvious betrayal, Derek stuck by her side. He moved in with her, cut ties with his whole family, even Laura. It wasn't until sometime later that his father lost an entire building due to a hack of their system. The hacker had gone in and virtually bankrupted the entire Hale business. Derek, just nineteen at the time had connected the dots, finally. Though he had cut ties with them, he'd occasionally check in on their numbers and profits, something he was accustomed to doing anyways. And he was sure, not even thinking twice, that he had left the program up and running while he went out. So all Kate simply had to do was walk over, edit a few things and continue doing whatever she had been doing. Suddenly all the questions she'd asked made sense, "Who is their broker?", "Who tips you off?", "When do you plan your meetings?" The Hales had been sabotaged. Money missing, sites being bought from under them by just a few thousand, employees leaving them. And now, they were nearly bankrupt. And it had all been because of Derek. He had immediately called a car and demanded that they get 'home' as quickly as possible. By the time they got there, Derek had already been shaking and crying. Talia opened the door and took him in, no questions asked. Kate was arrested, but they couldn't exclusively _prove_ anything, because money can buy justice. They _did_ book her for six months for unpaid tickets and whatnot, but that was about it. His family had taken him back with open arms and relief, but Derek hadn't accepted their acceptance. It took a long time for Derek to be Derek again. Even now he wasn't himself, 4 years later. But that was the end of Kate Argent, until she showed up one morning to a business meeting that Derek had just happened to be sitting in on. He nearly strangled her, as did Laura. But so far, they've managed to coexist.

"Well," he said, fake disappointment dripping from his words as he turned towards the elevators, "this is me."

"Shame. I'll see you around, Handsome," she promised, sending chills down his spine.

He boarded the elevator and hit the very top floor, floor 76. However, due to the fact that this _was_ an errand for Laura, he decided to stop for coffee on the 32nd floor.

He was filling his cup when a young girl nicked his elbow. He shifted quickly, barely avoiding a spill.

"Oh my God!" she cried, hands flying up to cover her face, causing Derek to dodge her once again, "I'm so sorry!"

Normally, Derek would have just mumbled a few careless words and been on his way, but once he saw who it was...well, he had always been told that he had a meticulous mind and a roundabout way of doing things. So, instead he smiled. The biggest, most shitfaced, phony, come-one smiles he could manage.

"It's alright," he went on, "it happens."

"I can't believe I just did that," she babbled, "I'm so sorry! Usually I'm so... _not_ like that. I'm so embarrassed."

He let out a chuckle, "Don't be embarrassed. No harm, no foul."

She stood there, cheeks red and body cautious.

"I best be going."

"Oh...oh did you spill any? Do you need another?"

"Oh no, like I said, no harm," he smiled again.

"Okay. I..I'm so sorry."

He could see that he had gotten her flustered, an internal victory.

"It's quite alright. It's been my pleasure. Hopefully I'll see you around Ms,-"

"Um...Allison."

"Ms. Allison," he decided before bowing his head and turning back towards the elevator to finish his ascent.

 **Allison Argent: 8:10 am**

After her morning gym trip, Allison headed towards her father's office. She would officially be interning there for the summer before applying to transfer into a four year school. After her mother had passed away three years ago, she decided to take online classes through a community college. She had been depressed, anxious and she needed to be home. She worked through the pain of not seeing her mother, her fiercest advocate and competitor, everyday. It was a slow process, but it was a process. And even now, she'd find herself in an everyday moment where she'd remember and break down. It was hard, but she had to believe that her mother was in a better place now. It had been lung cancer. And seeing the strongest person she knew become so weak and so little before her very eyes...it was haunting to say the least. She wished she had died in an car accident or...or...or anything else. Something quick, something painless, something less degrading. She was her first thought every morning. But she was getting better. She started training again and working out and socializing. Kate had returned home on the account of her mother's death and helped tremendously. Allison decided that she was ready to start school _school_ and maybe get a part time job, just to give her something to focus on. She'd start the internship in about a month when summer officially began, until then, these college applications were weighing her down. As awful as it was, she'd probably be able to get in just about anywhere, given her name. But her grades were good too. She didn't want to be slave to the powers of nepotism her whole life. It was still early, but it had already been a long day. She had forgotten her sneakers at home, so she had to turn around halfway. Once she had gotten there, she left her money on the counter, she didn't have anything to buy breakfast with. With all the delays, she had gotten to the gym around six opposed to five. This was the time all the old guys and businessmen were there. Allison hated a crowded gym. After rushing around all morning, she had finally gotten to the office around seven, just to find out that Kate had meetings all morning, so they couldn't do anything until around nine or so. Yeah, Kate had texted her, but did Allison read it? No. Why would she have? Now annoyed that she had nothing to do for two hours, she headed towards the coffee bar outside her aunt's office. She stopped mid step as her eyes landed on a very handsome young man in an expensive looking suit. Kate had taught her how to tell the differences between a cheap suit, a nice suit and an expensive one. "A guy who has a nice suit probably has one or two other ones in his closet. We don't even want to look at the cheap ones. But the guys with the expensive suits...they have a closet full." Allison remembered rolling her eyes, but took the training in stride. He was tall and broad shouldered, and basically the definition of 'tall, dark and handsome'. Her heart jumped. She started over, smoothing out her hair and running a finger down the side of her lip to catch any misplaced gloss. She scooted over beside him, trying to get close enough that he'd notice. She reached out for the sugar as he brought his arm down. She hit his elbow and retaliated, embarrassed. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! She panicked, unaware of the apologies already spilling from her mouth.

"I am so sorry!"

The man flickered his eyes over to her and hesitated a moment before smiling. He was gorgeous. Absolutely stunning. He had jade green eyes and flawless shiny white teeth. And five o'clock shadows weren't supposed to look that good on anyone. His aesthetic calmed her almost immediately. But his words, though in a low, careful voice, flustered her even more. Her mind was racing as they spoke. She was hardly able to control what came from her mouth. She must have apologized five more times. Soon he was walking away, coaxing her.

"You didn't spill any? Do you need another?" She blushed, realizing her silent request for him to stay longer.

"Oh no, like I said, no harm."

"Okay. I..I'm so sorry."

"It's quite alright. It's been my pleasure. Hopefully I'll see you around Ms,-"

He waited, his jade eyes focused on nothing but her. It took her breath away.

Ms., he had said Ms. indicating your name, come on, "Allison." She finished her thought allowed.

"Allison," he repeated. He said it easily and with such grace. She had never been so in love with her name. She watched him turn the corner in awe. "Hopefully I'll see you around," he had said. She stood there for a moment of regainment before frowning. She hadn't even asked his name, nor had he offered. She wanted to know who he was. Who the guy that swept her off her feet was. She _had_ to know. Her phone vibrated, breaking her trance.

"Hey!"  
"Alli! I heard you came in a little early today love bug," she could hear her aunt's smiling, wrinkling eyes.

"Yeah," he huffed, about to launch into the story of her commute.

"Hey listen, future intern, how about you come to my next meeting with me and then we head downtown for some shopping and lunch?"

"Oh God, that sounds perfect."

Kate laughed, "Alright, I'll meet you in the lobby in five?"

"Got it!"

Today already seemed to be shaping up.

After a loooong meeting about...well Allison didn't actually _know_ , they headed downtown for a few hours of shopping and people watching. Once they passed Rockefeller Center, Allison sighed.

"I can't wait for Christmas."

Kate chuckled, "Me either. My fall wardrobe is crying. You know I actually put on maroon today? I can't even stand it."

Allison smiled, looking over to where the tree would be in another few months, wondering what her life would be like then. It had changed in a matter of days before, so she was unsure of what a couple months would do.

"Hey, you want to eat there?"  
"Yeah," Allison chirped, eager to get her future off her mind. Maybe she'd ask Kate to explain that meeting to her.

They made their way to their indoor table when Kate stopped.

"What?"  
"Just some business competitors. Mind if we say hi?"  
"No?"

"Okay, smile my darling."

They approached the table slowly. Allison craned her neck to see they were closing in on a table with a man and a woman. She could only see the back of the man's head, but the woman was beautiful. You could see her foggy hazel eyes from here and her red lips. Her long dark hair outlined her petite face. The expression she was wearing looked familiar, but Allison couldn't place it. _She_ looked familiar. She had seen her in the office a few times, she was sure of it. Her beauty had always encapsulated her. Her soft eyes, however, hardened at the sight of Kate. Allison noted how the man stiffened, but did not turn around.

"Laura," Kate commented, in her "business voice" as Allison called.

"Katherine."

They finally stepped came close enough so that Allison could lean forward to see who the counterpart of this woman was. She nearly gaped when she saw that it was the man from earlier. Her breath hitched in her surprise, yet he didn't look surprised to see her in the least.

"Allison," he greeted, coolly, sipping his wine.

The two women's eyes lit up in curiosity.

"You know this man?"  
She couldn't find the words to explain the whole situation.

"We met this morning," he answered for her, matter of factly. He had changed his clothes, but she was still wildly intrigued by this mystery man.

The woman stood, extending her hand out to Allison. She took it cautiously. Kate had called them competitors and although she knew very little about them, already she was aware they were to be regarded in the highest. She could tell from a distance that they were cunning and careful. Both of them held an air of kindness to them, with an underlying threat of something to be feared. She would never want to cross them, especially on a bad day.

"Hi Allison," she smiled, "I'm Laura Hale and this is my brother Derek."

Derek.. _wait_. Hale? Derek...Hale. Laura Hale. _This_ was the Hale family? Her eyes flickered between the three of them before smiling back.

"It's nice to meet you."

"You as well," she stepped back to look at Kate, releasing Allison's hand, "I'd offer for you to join us, but Derek and I were just leaving. And you look as if you are just coming in."

"What a sweet offer," Kate said shortly, "but yes, we have to go."

Her bluntness took Allison aback, but she kept her shy smile on her face as Kate spoke. The tension was thickening. It reached an all time high, however, when Kate walked around the back of Derek's chair and dragged her hand over his shoulders. A lot happened at once. Derek immediately shied away, Laura took a step forward and Kate grinned.

"I told you I'd be seeing you around." She nearly whispered. "Come on Ali, I see a good table in the back for us."

Allison went to follow when Laura's look made her stop.

"I know that we're competitors in business, Allison. But our families used to be very close. We have a history. So if you ever need anything don't be afraid to call. Sometimes you need help that can't be given by even your closests."

"I'll remember that. Thank you."  
"You're such a sweet girl. Your mother would be proud."

"Th-thank you," the comment took her for a loop.

"Nice to see you again Allison," Derek said, as she turned to go.

"You too."

 **Scott: 9:00 am**

Scott and Stiles entered the familiar coffee shop at nine. Technically Scott was supposed to be ready by nine, but their earliest customer in this rush came at 9:15. Boyd peaked his head from behind the kitchen, seeing that it was only them, he returned to what he was doing.

There was nothing too noteworthy about today. He made a couple thousand chai lattes, heated up a trillion bagels, and ate probably ten of them. He didn't spill anything or make a huge mess with the powdered sugar. Jackson and the twins, Ethan and Aidan were working the counter today, Mason and Kali were on prep. Liam was training, but he didn't really count. While he was preparing a coffee granita for Lydia, an ice chai latte for Stiles, an eiskaffee for Isaac and a yuanyang for himself, he heard desperate babbling at the register. He walked over to aid the trainee.

"How may I help you?" Scott smiled, innocently.

"Is Vernon here?"  
"Boyd? No, I think he left about twenty minutes ago. Can I help you with anything?"  
"He usually works until three."  
"Yeah, we switched schedules around. He's only working until 11 on Saturdays."

"Mm. Black," he said, slapping down a five.

"Coming right up."

This man a usual. He'd always come around once in awhile, sometimes just for the coffee and sometimes to talk to Boyd. Boyd was a typically private person, so Scott never really did get around asking him. But he nearly always wore leather, so he had been given the name "Leather Guy" (I know, creative) by the group of them who hung around. They never actually paid attention to him, there were a lot of regulars. There was "Mom" and "Glasses" and "University" and "Red" and "Converse" and "Leather Guy". He wasn't a topic of conversation, nor would be ever start one. He'd just slap down a five, order his coffee, usually black, and expected a bagel to come with it, as it always did. No change. Scott brought the tray of coffees over to the small group of them, sitting in their usual spot on the couches.

"-you gotta respect it though," Stiles said, taking his latte from Scott with both hands, "wearing leather in a vegan cafe."

Erica had driven them to Kira's house in Long Island for rehearsal. Garrett was already waiting for them. Scott was on the drums, Erica played the bass, Garrett was on vocals and guitar and Kira was their main singer. They were pretty good, if they did say so themselves. They had a couple songs on itunes and youtube, but they were waiting to make it big. Or at least small. Something. Scott was waiting on a detrimental phone call, letting them know if they got the spot for opening for a pretty well known band for their NYC tour. They all settled in, Stiles sat with his knees folded into his chest on the couch while Garrett played a couple strings on his guitar. They played through their first two songs flawlessly, Stiles applauding after each, and letting Garrett know how constipated he looked during his solos. They took a water break, lounging on the couch around Stiles. Scott barely heard his phone ringing across the room. He picked it up quickly.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is this Scott McCall?"  
"It is," he said.

The rest of the band all looked over curiously, hoping it was what they thought it was.

"Hi, this is Marin Morrell calling about _Canis Lupis_ , the band?"

"Yes?"  
"Ho-I'm sorry..."

He looked up from the ground, his sad eyes met Stiles' hopeful ones before he turned away.

 **Erica: 10:00 am**

After a long morning of deliveries and biking up and down the west side about a thousand times, Erica headed home.

They had a day shift that she would sometimes work with when she didn't have rehearsal. She never wanted to touch the night shift though. That was some sketchy shit. More people have been held up then than the other shifts combined. Normally, if business was slow, she'd pick up a few hours at that coffee house everyone hung out at. She never actually bothered to learn its name. Ten dollars and hour, under the table? She was with it. But she had to pick up Scott and Stiles in about an hour and a half, so she headed over to Boyd's to catch something to eat. She flounced in, still in her workout clothes.

"Hey Marie," she greeted the lady at the front desk.

"Hola Erin."

Erica smiled, she had introduced herself over and over again, but after about the fifth try, she let it go, not seeing the point. If she wanted to call her Erin, so be it. She took the stairs, because the elevator was broken. It was only four floors, but still. Erica could run for miles, she could bike countries, hike mountains, but once it came to stairs...forget it. She finally made it up and fished her keys from her backpack. She opened the door to a decently clean apartment, which was surprising, knowing her brother. But to her surprised, Boyd was sitting on the couch, enthralled in a tv show.

"Boyd?"  
He turned, "Oh, hey."

"What...what are you doing home? I thought you worked until three?"

Why was he home? Why didn't he tell her he wasn't working today? Did he have plans? Was it a secret? Why didn't he tell her? Why was he here? Was he meeting someone? She knew these questions were ridiculous, that Boyd would never do anything like that. But she couldn't help become insecure, especially at the thought of losing Boyd. She knew he deserved so much more of her trust. So in turn she got angry at herself, causing her to work herself up even more.

Boyd must have sensed that something was wrong, because he paused the television and fully turned towards her.

She felt her eyes on him, "Come here."

She dropped her bag on the floor and walked over to him, refusing to sit on the couch next to him.

Seeing this, he continued, "They switched my hours. I'm only working until 11 on Saturdays, Sundays I work until six. Today was the first day though...why are you upset?"  
"Upset? I'm not upset!"  
"Erica-"  
"I...I don't know."

The Reyes hadn't grown up in the best conditions. They were neglected, abused, locked in basements, forgotten at home. They were put into the infamous system when they were six. From there on, they bounced home from home. Some good, and some worse than what they had come from. Eventually, when they were eleven, they were brought into a sweet old hispanic woman's home. She was kind eyed and plump, and very wise in her age. She never had kids of her own and her husband had died when she was thirty four. She was forty seven now. Widowed and alone. She ended up adopting the both of them only six months later. But the transition had been difficult. Her and Isaac had grown up to be two extremes. Erica became strong headed and difficult. She closed herself off to nearly everyone she knew. She was still making progress, all these years later, but it was hard for her to let anybody in. When Boyd had come along, he had made her head spin. His gentleness despite his appearance, his voice, his patients despite the impatient look her wore. She had let her into her past. The only others who knew her history was Isaac, her band and Stiles. People she was sure wouldn't hurt her in such a way. But being in a relationship...nothing was certain. She fully intended to marry Boyd, but she didn't know if Boyd intended to marry her. And even after that, divorce was a thing. Isaac, on the other hand, grew up to be gentle and quiet. He was afraid and cautious. He struggled to let others in too, but he was always looking for someone to love him. And Erica wasn't the best at conveying that. She blamed herself a lot for his mannerism and pain. Marilyn, their (adoptive mother), was always so loving and kind. She was gentle, and patient, and understanding. She never got upset when Isaac cried over nothing or when Erica yelled and screamed and said untrue and awful things to her. She would just wrap them tightly in her arms and let them let everything out before rocking them and singing hushed songs in their ear. If anyone deserved to be a mother, it was her. It was near a sin that she hadn't been able to nurture one herself. Erica thanked God for her. They kept in close touch. They had family dinners every Tuesday. Holidays were spent at her house. They spoke on the phone multiple times every week. Erica knew that a chunk of Isaac's paycheck when to her every month. She was very lucky to have the family that she had. And she felt guilty that she still had those underlying doubts that one day she'd be told she wasn't wanted anymore. Especially with Boyd.

He silently lifted his arm up, as a sign that he wanted her there, next to him. She cooperated, falling into his side.

"Erica."

"Vernon."

"I love you. You know that."  
"I...I know."  
"You're my whole world. I would do anything for you. I wake up every morning for you. You're all I think about. The other day, my coworker asked me how my _sister_ Erika was and I answered thinking it was you."

"You're an idiot," she breathed halfheartedly.

She couldn't help that her eyes were misty or that her heart was swelling.

"I just forgot to tell you is all. Besides," he said, pulling back so he could see her face. "I know you have a key to my apartment and were getting off around this time, so do you really think if I was going to cheat on you, I'd do it here?"

She let out a huff of laughter before starting to chuckle. She buried her nose against his shoulder, craving his solid body against hers. He wrapped his arms around her torso and pulled her in. She didn't know how Boyd knew exactly what had been going on in her head, but he knew. And that's what made him even more perfect for her.

"I love you," she admitted, pulling back, running a hand over his cheek.

He smiled shyly.

"I have to go pick up Scott and Stiles. I should be home around three."

"I'll cook something. Isaac should be here at two."  
"Okay," she pecked him on the side of his lips, "make him help. Just keep him away from the oven."

"Alright, I'll see you after, Beautiful."

She grabbed an apple and a few granola bars.

"Love you," she cried over her shoulder before disappearing into the hall.

 **Stiles: 8:00 am**

Stiles grumbled as he sorted through his clothes. It was warm today, which meant he had to brush his hair because no beanies. He tried to tame it, but it ended up sticking in every which way and direction. He shook his head at his pale and tired face. It wasn't his fault their neighbors were drunks. He wandered around his room, picking up the first pair of decent jeans he saw. He did the smell test, and they smelt just fine. He slid them on and grabbed the first batman shirt he saw. It was the classic one. One of his favorites. He knew Scott usually took forever to get ready, but since he had to be to work in forty five minutes, today should be somewhat painless. He just wanted to be sitting in Cafe 13 with some kind of caffeinated beverage talking to Lydia about The Walking Dead, hot guys and the strange people of NYC. He slipped on his shoes right as Scott came out of his bedroom. It was funny, the way his best friend transformed. There was Stiles' Scott, the one who loved to veg out and eat shit food and watch shit movies and play video games all weekend, then there was coffee shop Scott. Dressed in cargoes or khakis or whatever they were with a white polo shirt and brown shoes. It made him look so...so sophisticated. Which was hilarious. When Stiles worked there during the week he basically got free reign because he wasn't in a managing position like Scott or Jackson were. Then there was the band Scott. Wild and relaxed and twitchy all at the same time. But during all these transformations, Scott was still Scott. Still dumb and goofy and caring. Stiles couldn't have asked for a better best friend. They finally located all of their belongings and were out the door.

"You have your key?" Scott asked, like always.

"Yea," Stiles would answer, like always.

They both stopped mid stride and nearly crumbled at the sight in front of them. This morning couldn't have sucked anymore if it tried. There they were. On the seventh floor, gaping at the sign that hung on the elevator: "Under Maintenance". They both flared up into a string of curse words as they took the opposite hallway to the stairwell. By the time they hit the lobby they were sweating and grumpy.

Their apartment advisor greeted them, "Hello boys."

"Good Morning Ms. Lahey," they chorused as they walked out into the shy morning sun.

They had to take a series of busses and trains to finally get there. Normally Stiles didn't mind the commute. It was interesting to say the least. But today, an old guy blew chunks on the bus. And when they finally could get off to get on the subway, Stiles realized that he forgot his headphones on the counter. Then on the next stop, a woman with two screaming children, who were completely wigging out, sat right next to Stiles. He had never hated children, or mothers more. They finally got to the shop around nine. Boyd and Mason already hard at work.

Jackson came from the back room, furrowing his eyes at Stiles.

"What do you live in this place?"

Stiles shrugged, "Pretty much."

"Why don't you go do something with your life, Stilinski."

"I am doing something. I actually have a coffee date with your girlfriend," he grinned, propping his feet up on the small square table in front of him.

Jackson rolled his eyes as he pushed the small table from under Stiles' feet, causing the boy to prop up.

"I am a paying customer. I demand to be treated with respect!"  
"Can it."

"I want a flat white to start."

Jackson just stared at him, "You can go to the counter and order...like the paying customer you are."

"Boyd!"

"I got it."

Stiles settled in with a victorious smirk. It was 9:14. And as if cued, their first customer of their second morning rush walked in as the clock changed. She was a beautiful sight. She had stunning green eyes and fair skin. She always had her makeup done to the extremes and was always in the latest fashions. There was never a strand of strawberry blonde hair out of place. She was the specimen of a perfect human being. When her eyes landed on Stiles, he couldn't help but admit that his heart skipped a beat. She sauntered over to him carefully before glaring at Jackson and sloppily throwing herself on the couch next to Stiles.

"Rough night?" He asked, eyes flickering between the gorgeous red head in his arms and the gorgeous _thing_ standing over them.  
"Try week," she confirmed, throwing her bag under the table.

Not three seconds after she arrived, a caramel frappacino was placed infront of her, along side Stiles' flat white.

"Thank you," she breathed, snatching hers up with both hands while crossing her legs underneath her skirt.

"First, Jackson stood me up on date night!"  
"I didn't stand you up! Oh my God."

She turned and leveled Jackson with one, terrifying look before turning back to Stiles.

"We were supposed to go to that new movie. You know, the one with that guy we like."

Stiles nodded eagerly.

"And then he calls me, two hours before we're supposed to go and tells me that Danny's having a bunch of his friends over to watch a baseball game. A baseball game! On TV. Not even in real life. If you wanted to see a baseball game, we could have gone to a baseball game. In person. Like, come on. And I had already started on my makeup. And then I had nothing to do. I even had an outfit picked out."

Stiles took a long sip of his drink, pondering his response. He needed something that was enough to tick Jackson off without actually making him mad. He smirked.

"Sounds like a jerk."

Jackson narrowed his eyes at the two of them in disbelief before turning around and marching back to the counter.

"Then, he shows up to my place on Thursday, absolutely polluted. Like, who drinks on Thursdays? I have finals all next week. He knows this."

"Well he had Fridays off."  
"Yeah, but I don't."

She went on like this for the next twenty minutes until the late morning rush started in.

Stiles had met Lydia right here, in this very spot. She and her ex boyfriend just had a fight and she had burst in the coffee shop crying. Stiles was the only one there that night, he was closing. He kept the cafe open an additional three hours so she could pull her act back together before going home. And he kept the cinnamon lattes coming. The second he laid eyes on her, he had been in love with Lydia Martin. She was smart, she was cunning, she was beautiful. After that night she had come into that place nearly every weekend, if not four times every week. He remembered the first time she had come in after that night. He had been working the counter with Scott and Danny. It was a relatively slow day. Their regulars came in and mingled a bit, nothing too exciting. But then Lydia Martin walked in and made a beeline for Stiles.

Scott's eyes nearly popped out of his head when she grabbed his arm and pulled him over, "I need to talk to you!"

He wouldn't lie, he was pretty smug, especially when even Danny looked taken aback. A bit offended, but smug. She pulled him onto the couches where they sat a few nights before and she told him everything that she hadn't been able to say before. She told him about her day and how the store that she wanted to go to most in the mall was closed and that Bradley Cooper was in new movie coming out. He remembered telling her in the middle of one of her sentences that she was beautiful, even when she cried, and she looked at him strangely before hugging him and putting her number in his phone. That was the beginning of that. He had introduced her to Jackson exactly two months later.

And so began their coffee shop group of friends. It was he and Lydia, Scott, Erica and Isaac who stopped in once in awhile, but often enough, Boyd and Jackson. When they weren't working they were still there. It made Stiles very happy. Even if Jackson was a complete asshat sometimes or Boyd was being too broody. But it was his own little circle, and he wouldn't have changed it for the world.

They were there so often that they even made up names for the usuals. Yes, his life was coming to resemble FRIENDS a little bit, but he didn't mind it. There was "Mom" who always looked so stressed out. She would order her coffee, read her book, do a crossword once and awhile. And without a fault, everyday, she would sport a pair of mom jeans. Then there was a kid who they called "Glasses". And yes, it was because he wore glasses. Then there was "Red" who had fire engine red hair and liked to wear red, also. There was "University" who you could tell went to a huge school and had wealthy parents and was the standard 'student athlete' jock. Then "Converse" who didn't own a pair of any other shoe that wasn't branded by Converse. And then, "Leather Guy" who just walked in. He always wore his leather jacket. Stiles was pretty sure he did it intentionally. Leather in a vegan cafe. Finstock, the owner, hated it, hated _him_.

Stiles watched him walk up to the counter, approaching poor Liam who already looked flustered before they started talking. It was only a moment before Scott popped over to clear everything up. Isaac had joined them a couple of minutes ago, sitting across from Stiles, looking worn out from already hectic day.

"Look at that tool," Isaac mumbled bitterly.

Stiles turned around to actually look. He shamelessly had to admit that the guy was kinda...no, he was really hot. Drop dead gorgeous kind of hot. Like Lydia Martin level. He blushed, not having noticed him before. Now he was fucked. The man always wore a scowl on his chiseled face and barely spoke more than a couple of words here or there. Stiles had never had to serve him, he always would come in on the weekends. But now he was hyper aware of the guy and it was all Isaac's fault.

"-you gotta respect it though," he gave a quiet, admirable smile as Scott joined them with their coffees, "wearing leather in a vegan cafe."

"He's just a douche bag," Isaac confirmed.

Stiles rolled his eyes checking his phone.

 _Catwoman: otw in 5_

He didn't bother responding, knowing that he had about an hour to enjoy this coffee and listen to Isaac complain about Jackson's dad and Lydia complain about Jackson.

About 45 minutes later she stuck her head in, "Come on, we're gonna be late."

Stiles let out a huff before setting his almost empty cup down and grabbing for his book.

"Wait Stiles, did you get any acceptance letters yet?" Isaac asked.

"Not yet."

"They'll come around next week," Lydia assured him, "don't worry."

Stiles smiled. None of them, except for Jackson and Lydia had gone to college. Boyd had done a two year online course which landed him a job in hotel management at one of the decently big hotels uptown during the week. But other than that, all they had were high school diplomas. They had chosen the work feild opposed to four or more years of school. And they were all doing pretty alright. But they all were deadset on Stiles going to college. It was kind of nice, having all these people who cared, and it was also annoying. Jackson, Scott and Lydia helped him pick a good few, Isaac and Boyd had gone on a couple visits with him, Jackson had helped him with his applications, Lydia edited his essays. It was stressful, but with all the help, he had reached every deadline with ease. Not all there was to do was wait. And that was the hardest part.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Bye," they chorused.

It was an hour later when they reached Kira's house. Stiles didn't mind being dragged along to these rehearsals most of the time. Scott always made everything fun and Kira was really cool too. She liked the whole superhero scene too (the Hulk was her favorite). And their band wasn't that bad either. They had an edgy vibe to them, a bit much for Stiles' taste, but they were good none the less. They played through a few of their songs, flawlessly as always.

"You look like your dog just died Garrett!" he cried during a pause between songs.

He couldn't help himself but hold his sides and laugh. Especially when Erica stiffled a snort. The two of them fed off eachother's laughter and comments until Scott called a break. They all threw themselves down on the couch, Garrett shoving Stiles over so he could sit on the end.

"Hello?"

They all turned towards Scott who was still over by the set. They silanced and exchanged immediate looks of curiosity.

"Yes?" They heard in say in guarded excitment.

He looked up suddenly, meeting Stiles' eyes. He expected to be met with overwhelming joy, but instead it was sadness. He was confused. How? How could they have not liked the soundtrack they sent them? It was some of their best work. It was...Scott turned away from them. Stiles slouched back in defeat.

"Okay, okay. Yeah. Thank you very much. Okay, bye."

He turned back around to face them slowly. Everyone held their breath.

"We got it," he said lowly, "We got it guys! We got the job!"

"What?" Erica cried.

"They like us! We're opening with Three Suns in their city tour!"

"Oh my God!" Kira cried, jumping with excitement, "Oh my God!"

Stiles wore a look of shock as Scott made his way over to his band.

"Stiles!" he cried, "we made it!"

They grabbed eachother in a hug. Garrett and Erica highfived _after_ their internal flip out, Stiles could tell. They quit rehearsal and all enjoyed a glass of expensive champagne that Kira's parents had bought in anticipation. Stiles couldn't help but smile for the rest of the day. Maybe things were getting ready to shape up for them.

 **Derek: 8:30**

He had finally dropped the papers off to Chris' secretary at 8:20. He had given the boy at the desk his best smile and asked that they be given to Chris immediately as he arrived. The girl had blushed as she nodded and set the papers aside. He got on to the elevator, now free to enjoy the day to himself. The elevator quickly filled up as he went down. Why the crowd didn't just take the next elevator was beyond him. He wished he had grabbed a lid to for his coffee as he was crowded towards the back. He let out a sigh of relief as about six or seven people got off at once, however this feeling was shortlived. A man with a briefcase in one hand and his phone in the other joined him. Not only was he talking loud and waving his hands in expression, but he hit the button for the floor above them. Derek gritted his teeth, as he mentally strangled the guy. He knew what was coming as soon as the guy swung both of his hands up and knocked Derek's coffee right out of his hands and on to his 3,000 dollar suit. He dropped the cup altogether and his gaze shot up to the guy who had spun around.

"What the fuck?!" Derek growled.

"I...Milli, I have to-I'm so sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Not as sorry as you're going to be when you have to pay for the dry cleaning!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please, I...bill the company!"  
"I plan on it," his voice was dangerously low.

He attempted to pull the wet areas from his skin as the man sprinted from the elevator. Three or four other people stood there waiting to get on hesitantly. Derek shot them a look of fury before reaching over and hitting the 'close door' button. He didn't dare go to the Hale's building in fear of running into Laura or his parents. He closed his eyes and miserably dialed his brother's number.

"Yeah?" Came Peter's very professional greeting.

"Are you home?"  
"No."

"Good," he hung up and massaged the bridge of his nose.

He pulled of his suit jacket and unbuttoned his sleeves to roll them up. It took in about ten minutes to locate Laura's driver, which was just adding to his annoyance.

"Bring me to Peter's house. Then you can leave."  
"But, I'm supposed to bring you to meet your sister, Sir."  
"She can pick me up herself," given his tone, the driver made no more statements.

He made his way into the apartment and threw his jacket on the couch. He headed straight towards the coat closet. Derek always kept a pair of his normal clothes, pajamas and a suit here. Typically for this very reason. He pulled off his coffee scented pants and sat down on the couch for a quiet moment. That is until his phone rang.

"Derek Hale."

"It's called caller ID."  
"What Peter?"

"I should be asking you the same thing. Do you know anything about Erica Reyes?"

Derek sat up.

"No?"  
"Why?"  
"Do you?"  
"Why?"

"Because I'm trying out a new delivery service and need to know if she can be trusted."

"She...Peter what are you doing?"

"She what?"  
"You know her?"

"She's fine."  
"Good. Get out of my house."

Derek rolled his eyes. He had to get to Boyd and let him know to keep and eye/ear out for anything with Erika. Peter does some creepy shit given the right variables. He found his dark washed jeans and his dark blue t-shirt on the shelf. And it was by some sort of Godforsaken whim that he had left his leather jacket here the other day. He shot Laura a text that told her to pick him up at the coffee shop- _Café 13_. She knew where it was. Boyd worked there so he was nearly a regular. They also had the best bagels around, or so he thought. It was only a few blocks down, so he walked. By the time he made it in, the place was quiet. He checked his watch, it was a few minutes before eleven, the end of their "rush hour" as Boyd called it. This was the time he usually got in here. His table looking out the window was untouched and unoccupied, like usual. It made him just a little bit happier than he was five minutes ago. The quietness was good, but the noise was replaced by ten or eleven "hipsters" or whatever they called themselves now. Kids who wore plaid and drank black coffee just because and had Tumblrs and liked weird bands that were bad and had glasses that were three times the size of their face for a fashion statement and wore suspenders. Derek hated them. And now Brooklyn, and apparently the whole city was crawling with them. It was wonderful, really. He walked by a group of them all sitting on the couches in the middle of the cafe. He made his way to the counter.

"Is Boyd here?"

The young boy, a new employee, Derek noticed, looked ready to shit his pants.

"I..um, I think he left?"  
"He's supposed to be here."

"I'm sorry I can't...I don't..."

Derek just stared at the boy.

"How may I help you?" Scott slid into his view.

"Is Vernon here?" he asked again, shooting a glare at the boy now behind Scott.  
"Boyd? No, I think he left about twenty minutes ago. Can I help you with anything?"  
"He usually works until three," he justified.

"Yeah, we switched schedules around. He's only working until 11 on Saturdays."

"Mm," he hummed, deciding what to do next. Today really put him in a mood, "Black," he said harshly, taking a five out of his back pocket and putting it on the counter, hoping he knew what he had meant with his lack of words.

"Coming right up."

Derek let out a huff of content as he stepped to the side. The only real noise there was, came from the group of them on the couches. Erica's brother had joined them only a little after he had come in. They were engaged in his story, giving Derek time to take them all in. Yeah, they were there every weekend, the coffee junkies, but he had never really paid them much mind. He only knew that Boyd and Erica hung out with them sometimes, and that was the extent of his knowledge. There was a beautiful girl who sat straight up and neat. Her aura reminded him a lot of Laura's. Across from her sat Erica's brother in a grey suit, now unbuttoned. He was rubbing his face a lot. And next to her sat, probably the worst offender of a "hipster" yet. He had those glasses on and his hair was somewhat of an organized catastrophe and his lips...he looked like he was wearing lip gloss or something...It was bad enough he was sitting in a cafe on a Saturday afternoon...a _vegan_ cafe. He was talking adamantly about something now, probably some equal rights movement that happened in Uruguay. Derek took note of his Batman shirt as he was handed his coffee and bagel. He rolled his eyes as he sat down in his normal spot. The kid probably didn't even know who Dick Grayson was.

Not 20 minutes after he sat down his phone vibrated, it was Laura. He left his cup and took the rest of his bagel as he sauntered out the door, ready to hear her complain about his outfit choice.

"Please tell me that you did not just deliver a multimillion dollar contract in jeans."

He growled, "No, Your Highness."

"It's not for me it's-"

"For Mom and Dad," he recited dryly.

"Who shit in your cornflakes this morning?"  
"You did, when you woke me up at 6am."

She sniffed the air, "You smell like coffee."

"Yeah?"  
"Like...French though," he raised his eyebrows, "You drink Columbian."

He squinted his eyes at her in disbelief.

She shrugged, "Are you seeing someone?"

"What?"  
"Are you seeing someone? Romantically? Who has a bad taste in coffee?"  
"No, I-it was probably that jackass this morning."  
"Who?"  
"Some idiot made me spill my coffee this morning."  
"Oh...that explains," she gestured to him, "this."

He huffed.

"Where are we going?"  
"The Rock Center Cafe."  
"Thank God."

When they arrived they were seated they searched the data base of the Argent's employees and found Phil. Poor Phil. He probably never brought his clothes to the Chinese Mafia's laundromat. The finest in all of New York City, maybe all of New York. It practically cost a third of each piece of the suit itself. He couldn't wait until Chris called him screaming about harassing his employees by the time this all went through. They had been snickering about it when Laura stiffened.

"What?"  
"Kate."  
Derek couldn't help go rigid.

"Laura," he raspy voice came.

"Katherine."

Derek reached for his wine. Kate couldn't touch him while Laura was there. He felt sure of that much. His eyes flickered up to catch sight of a dark haired girl behind Kate's shoulder.

"Allison," he said, taking the first sip of his red wine.

He saw both his sister and Kate look at him.

"You know this man?"

He watched Allison open her mouth as her faced flushed.

"We met this morning."

He watched the dots connect in Laura's head. Allison. Kate Argent. Allison Argent. Chris' daughter. Victoria's daughter. Allison Argent. She stood, grabbing for Allison's hand.

"Hi Allison," Derek expected her to give her trademarked Hale smile, but instead it was a soft grin, "I'm Laura Hale and this is my brother Derek."

Derek sat back and watched _her_ dots connect. Hale. Hale v Argents. Laura Hale. _Derek_ Hale. Fuck.

"It's nice to meet you."

"You as well. I'd offer for you to join us, but Derek and I were just leaving. And you look as if you are just coming in."

"What a sweet offer, but yes, we have to go."

He smirked into his wine glass.

The second Kate was out of his sight was the second he felt her hand drag across his shoulder. He jumped away like the pathetic nineteen year old he had been.

"I told you I'd be seeing you around," he shut his eyes, trying to keep himself from shuddering under her touch, trying not to give her the satisfaction that she screwed him up so bad that he hasn't even looked at anyone since her. "Come on Ali, I see a good table in the back for us."

He looked up when Allison stopped next to his chair.

"I know that we're competitors in business, Allison. But our families used to be very close. We have a history. So if you ever need anything don't be afraid to call. Sometimes you need help that can't be given by even your closests."

There was a pregnant pause before he felt her eyes on him. He sipped his wine.

"I'll remember that. Thank you."  
"You're such a sweet girl. Your mother would be proud."

"Th-thank you."

Laura 1, Kate 0.

"Nice to see you again Allison," Derek called after her, keeping in character.

"You too."

They both watched her retreating back before Laura sat down, "Fucking cunt."

 **Isaac: 7:20am**

Isaac walked into the small office after chaining his bike to the outside tree.

"You're late," Parrish said stirring his coffee.

"I'm technically off the clock for today."

"Here," Parrish mumbled, handing him a manilla envelope.

"Who, What, Where, When, Why?"

"It's a weird one, but it's your only one for today. I'll pay you twenty out of pocket it it's done neatly. It's going to..." he looked down over his reading glasses, "West 59th Street. Columbus Circle. Don't fold it, don't drop it, don't wet it, don't look at it."  
"Got it."

"You need to be there in twenty five minutes, that shouldn't be a problem. This guy has specific instructions, so, do not be early, do not be late. Think of this as a company tryout. As soon as you get to the drop, open _this_ envelope," he handed him a white business one, "this is who the drop is to."

"What the hell?"  
"I already called the Chief. He has undercover and armed men already out there."  
This wasn't the first time they've dealt with sketchy customers with specific directions and high stakes, and Heaven knows it wouldn't be the last.

"Alright, I'll see ya tomorrow," Isaac called over his shoulder as he slid the two envelopes in his bag. He turned around as he pushed open the door, "And who's it from?"  
"Peter Hale! He pays well!"

Isaac unlocked his bike and began his fairly long trek uptown. It wasn't too bad of a ride. Straight through midtown. It'd take 10 to 15 minutes to get there, with traffic maybe 20. Their office was off of 14th street. It was a little hole in the wall that had big names going through it. They mostly stuck to Manhattan, but they were available to the rest of the city as well. They had their sister companies in the other four boroughs, which would work with them and do switch offs somewhere in the middle. It all generally worked pretty well. Until they started having to go into Chinatown or Little Italy. That's when things started to get a bit rocky. Luckily the new Chief of the NYPD was on board. It took a while, but Parrish was able to convince him after letting him know that if anything suspicious came through here, he'd be the first to know about it. And Parrish had street creds, so the Chief would have a major leg up in the battle against street crimes. Isaac checked his watch, it was 7:35 and he was on 51st street. He was making good time. He'd be there five minutes early, but that'd give him time to find a spot to hide and check out the name on the paper. But why would anything go smoothly on a Saturday morning? An asshole truck decided to run a red light, hitting another asshole truck who didn't bother to wait. This delayed Isaac a few minutes, so he was braking underneath the globe at 7:44. He ripped open the first envelope to read the name: _Peter Hale_. Isaac furrowed his eyes, as he sat back on his bike, steadying himself with both feet on either side of the seat. But wasn't he the guy who wanted the package _delivered_? He-

"Right on time," came a voice.

He looked up to come face to face with a rugby built man who had steel blue waiting eyes and a grey pinstriped suit on. There was no doubt in his mind that this was Peter Hale.

"As directed."

The man held out his hand for the package.

" _Think of it was a company tryout_."

Isaac looked at the outstretched hand a moment longer before meeting the man's eyes.

"I'm gonna need to see some ID."

He rolled his blue blue eyes and reached inside his internal suit jacket and pulled out a black leather wallet. Sure enough, it was him. True to form. He handed him the package gingerly.

"Have a nice day Mr. Hale," he called, throwing in a couple choice words inside his head.

Isaac stayed there for several moments after Peter had left, pretty sure that he had just delivered a package to the person who had sent it.


End file.
